Savage Craving - Cecilia Lane

Chapter 1

Seth Foster sipped at his beer bottle and watched the group gathered around a pool table in the back of The Roost. Every loud cheer or dragging on someone’s missed shot brought the dangerous eyes of the bar’s owner down on them. Not that Seth blamed the dragon. He could probably eat the entire Crowley pride in a single bite, but they’d wreck the joint before he could shift. Coming off a month-long ban for starting another bar fight didn’t exactly help matters.

The pride had stayed on their best behavior, though, and the dragon wasn’t the only one watching. Seth had felt eyes on him for months.

Dash pulled back on the pool cue and sent the white ball sailing through the air. It landed with a loud thunk in the middle of the multicolored pack, then rolled right into a corner pocket. Dash groaned and straightened to a chorus of snickers.

“If I’d known you were this terrible at pool, I’d never have mated you,” Colette teased.

“Keep it up,” Dash warned with a grin. “I’ll gladly repay your brother that dowry he gave me to take you off his hands.”

“He did not!” Colette gasped sharply. “He wouldn’t! You wouldn’t!”

Dash made a noncommittal noise and dodged her poke as he reached around her to palm his drink. He backed away after sneaking in a quick kiss on her shoulder, then leaned against the wall next to Seth.

Messes. They were all messes. Loud, obnoxious, delightful messes.

“Sooo,” Dash dangled the word between them until Seth raised an eyebrow. “Have you given it more thought?”

Seth took another pull from his bottle. “Given what more thought?” he asked blandly.

Dash squinted at him like he wasn't sure if he'd been played or not. Seth fought the urge to grin. As the resident jokester and shit-stirrer, his brother wasn't used to being poked at first.

Brother. Seth still had trouble wrapping his head around the idea. Fucking Waylon.

The man had been nothing more than a picture and a story as Seth grew up. He hadn’t even cared enough to get his birthday correct; the few cards that appeared in the mail always arrived months before or after.

Seth had been shocked and surprised when the old man showed up in his life. Despite his mother’s warnings to keep a level head, he’d let himself be charmed and awed like a small child. His father wanted to spend time with him. His father wanted to teach him all the tricks of the fighting trade. All the years of nothing melted away under the chance to connect with a missing piece of his life.

Except Waylon was a piece of shit, and Seth was just second best.

He’d found out about Dash through spite. Waylon lobbed his brother’s existence in his face when Seth balked at fixing fights. Not a big surprise with the way the asshole carried on with his sweet-nothings whispered in the ears of anyone with a shapely figure, but still a shock. He’d had almost three decades of thinking himself alone and had it flipped around in the space of a spat out, fuck-you-and-go-to-hell shouting match.

Dash sighed dramatically. “Staying on past this season, of course.”

That was the million-dollar question.

Curiosity drove him to find Dash. Stubbornness and a lucky job opening pushed him to try working on a ranch to get to know the man. He’d never felt more tired, more raw, and more… at home in his life.

Too bad it was all built on a lie.

Fuck. He never stayed long in any one place while working the fighting circuit. Weeks, usually. Maybe a month. Find a ring, keep winning no matter who they threw at him, vanish before the locals got too pissed. That was the only way to keep his dirty secret safe.

Bearden was different, he told himself. Hoped, prayed, wished on all the pinpricks of starlight in the night sky. He had a reason to stay. Bearden offered a flicker of a chance at normalcy.

The eyes that bored holes in the back of his head and made his shoulders itch told a different story. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming, especially when he saw faces flash in the crowded bar. That sense of unease drew a line between him and the others.

Seth picked at the label of his bottle and swept a look over the rest of the pride.

Lindley, the pride’s second, leaned in close to give Kyla a peck on her cheek. The wide smile on his face when he pulled back included his